The Body
by DaisyMaeEvans
Summary: Several people have things to say to Bellatrix...


The Body

_Certificate of Death_

_Bellatrix Helena Black Lestrange_

_Killed by curse in legal duel vs. Molly Elizabeth Weasley, testimony by Luna L. Lovegood and Hermione J. Granger_

_Time of Death app. 4:46 pm 2 May, 1998_

_Certified by my hand 2 May, 1998_

_Poppy Pomfrey, Healer Matron, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

The Healer

I took a pledge to save lives and alleviate pain, to prevent or cure curses and diseases. It's what I've spent my entire adult life doing. I do admit that there have been a few times (a very few given that I generally work with young healthy adolescents) in which I have fervently wished for the death of a patient. When a patient is in severe pain which cannot be lessened or cured, which can only increase until the poor soul is put out of misery, yes I have hoped that death would be swift. This is one of the few times I can ever remember when I have been happy and relieved at the death of a physically healthy person.

I think it's because there was a deadly sickness in you, even if it didn't show in your physical body. Your illness was a cancer of the heart, of the soul, a dark virus that ate away all that was whole and good within you. You seemed to take such joy in spreading your deadly insanity and hate, infecting as many people with your foul mantra of prejudice and Pureblood supremacy as you could get close enough to sneeze it onto.

I almost always say a prayer over the body of one who has passed. This one will be a prayer of thanks.

2. The Sister

I came here to gloat. I came here to spit in your face, the next best thing to killing you myself. I came here to find some retribution, some repayment for what you did to my baby, my sweet brave Dora. I wanted vengeance for the kind, honorable son-in-law I didn't have a chance to get to know because I was so afraid and angry at him for hurting my daughter and putting her in danger. I wanted to hurt you on behalf of a little boy who will never know that his parents loved him so much.

It's not working. I can't see the insane, evil creature that killed my daughter and my favorite cousin. I see the little girl who taught me how to slide down banisters and climb trees and made up excuses when Mama found out. I remember how those long thin fingers used to glide over the piano keys. I can picture you stealing biscuits just out of the cooker at Christmas time, and Mamie smacking your hand and grinning at the same time. Did you know Dora's favorite book was "Jack Frost takes a Holiday", just like yours? I'd read it to her snuggled up with a mug of hot cider with just a bit of cinnamon in it, the way you always liked it. Part of me missed you so much. I hate you. I miss you. I love you.

3. The Victim

I had to touch you myself. I had to have absolute proof that you could never harm me again. I've had nightmares of you cackling while you hurt me, again and again, and I wake up feeling your knife at my throat.

I was never as afraid of the pain or death; I went with Harry to find the Horcruxes knowing that there was a good chance that I wouldn't survive. I was more afraid that my boys would give up their lives or their mission to save me. The most terrifying part of the whole ordeal was when you told Ron that you'd kill him when you were done with me. That was what kept me going; that I had to live to save him.

Sacrifice. Did you ever really feel the inclination? Yes, I suppose you did. You were willing to sacrifice your freedom and life for your Dark Lord. The problem is that neither he nor any of the other Death Eaters would have done the same for you. Perhaps that's the difference between love and an obsession. We had love: we fought to preserve life and freedom, to protect one another.

For the record, I just kissed a Pureblood and was kissed in return. I plan on spending tonight in his arms. Dumbledore was right. We had love. We won.

4. The Killer

The thing I've always been proudest of is the life that I have created. Seven times I have borne strong healthy _people _into the world. It's been how I've defined myself; a creator and sustainer of life. So how on earth did I end up standing over the body of someone I killed?

I remember you when you were young. I remember thinking that you were a perfect Slytherin, beautiful and cold as the snake of your house. Even as I comforted the younger girls who were terrified of you I saw the way you looked after Narcissa and encouraged her. Even your steadfastness to V..voldemort, insane and misguided as it was, showed that there was something in you that was capable of loyalty. Is there something I could have done back then to help you avoid the path of death and destruction you chose? Is there a chance that after Voldemort's defeat you might have seen how insane and pointless it all was and come to your senses? Merlin, an untrained wizard barely of age was able to defeat your master without killing him; couldn't I have found a way to save my girls without taking your life?

Everyone has told me that it was unavoidable, that you would have killed one of those girls: my daughter, one of her best friends, or the girl my son is mad over. Everyone reminds me of how many, Muggle and wizard alike, have died by your wand. Maybe someday I'll say it to myself in the mirror and believe it. Maybe not.

5. The Orphan

I don't understand. I never had a chance to ask you because, well I was usually busy trying to keep you from killing me or my friends, but I really want to know. How could you hate your own family so much? How could you reject your own sister just because the man she loved didn't have a proper pedigree? How could you murder your own cousin, your own niece?

I had firsthand experience at being rejected by people who were supposed to be family. I used to sit alone in my cupboard and pretend that my mum and dad were alive and what it would be like. I pretended that I had a brother and a sister. I thought about all the games we'd play, the secrets we'd tell. No one treated me like family until I met Ron, Hermione and all the Weasleys. They took me in and cared about me and you called them blood-traitors. You had a sister, a sister who also had a great daughter, and you never even saw her.

If Ginny will still have me after everything that's happened, I hope I'll have my own family someday. I'm going to read to my kids, play Quidditch with them, all the things I never had. I'll never abandon them or allow them to be hurt. I don't understand how you could do that to your family. And I hope I never do.

6. The Survivor

So you're finally dead. You have no idea how much I wish I could have been the one; I'd have loved nothing better than to ram you through with that sword like the snake you are.

It's because of you my dad didn't take me to a Quidditch game or to buy my wand. It's because of you my mum didn't get to help me pick out my dress robes for the Yule ball. Because of you I associate Christmas with blinding white walls and antiseptic smells of St. Mungo's instead of pine trees and holly. Because of you the only things my mum could give me were bloody bubble gum wrappers. Because of you my parents didn't even know my name, and I couldn't even tell anyone because I didn't want anyone to see what shells two of the best Aurors in history had been reduced to. When people gave Harry all kinds of sympathy for losing his parents, sometimes I even envied him. (I usually felt really guilty when I remembered how those nutter relatives of his had treated him.) Still, sometimes I think it might have been better if you'd just killed them. At least then I wouldn't walk into Mungo's every time with this teeny tiny hope that someday someone would be able to do something to help them.

I hope the fires of hell are stoked nice and hot, bitch. I hope you burn for a very long time.

7. The Mourner

As usual, the lofty Pureblood men are nowhere to be found. Merlin knows where your husband is; Lucius and Draco are standing around somewhere trying to be invisible. None will help me do this one last thing for your mortal body. Very well, I am perfectly capable of handling this myself. I have, after all, handled many situations that my husband and son thought me too squeamish to tackle in the name of those I love.

Oh, Bella. You were the smartest, the cleverest, the strongest of us yet I was the one who did my duty. I was the one who supported my husband and played perfect society wife and produced the perfect fair-haired Pureblood heir. You were so busy chasing after the ultimate standard of Pureblood status while I was living it. We were always taught that we shouldn't give heed to those who were inferior to us. Why then did you insist on shouting your message instead of proving it by example, as I have done?

After all is said and done, does it really matter any more? Can we not just say magic is magic, some have it and some do not and there is no right or wrong, no better or worse? Those who have it use it, those who do not find other ways of living. Maybe after all the horror and bloodshed it really is as simple as that.

May you rest in peace, Bella. So may we all.

_Body of Bellatrix Lestrange claimed for burial by Narcissa C. Malfoy, sister of deceased_

_2 May 1998_

_Released by Poppy Pomfrey, Healer Matron of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_


End file.
